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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26871109">Customer Care</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessiete/pseuds/tessiete'>tessiete</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Prequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, coffee shop AU, i swear it's happy this time</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:08:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,018</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26871109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessiete/pseuds/tessiete</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan Kenobi has a crushtomer, but Qui-Gon Jinn may...or may not...have any idea who he is.</p><p>The thing is, it wouldn’t have bothered him so much if Qui-Gon Jinn were a perfectly respectable and appropriately terrible banker from next door, or the kind of businessman who worked in the tower down the block and came to the shop on their lunch break full of boasts and bragging, eager for their extra hot, extra sweet, extra large vanilla latte, and who skipped out of the shop without a word of thanks or a tip, but no...Qui-Gon Jinn was a landscaper.</p><p>And by the looks of him, one who preferred to commune with nature over a bath. Obi-Wan was disappointed with himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Backwards QuiObi Bang</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Customer Care</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/bereweillschmidt/gifts">bereweillschmidt</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This work could not have been made without the wonderfully inspiring work of <a href="https://weillschmidtdoodles.tumblr.com/">bereweillschmidt</a> on tumblr, and <a href="https://www.patreon.com/bereweillschmidt">Bere Weillschmidt</a> on patreon! Thank you for sharing your incredible art!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The thing is, it wouldn’t have bothered him so much if Qui-Gon Jinn were a perfectly respectable and appropriately terrible banker from next door, or the kind of businessman who worked in the tower down the block and came to the shop on their lunch break full of boasts and bragging, eager for their extra hot, extra sweet, extra large vanilla latte, and who skipped out of the shop without a word of thanks or a tip, but no...Qui-Gon Jinn was a landscaper.</p><p> </p><p>And by the looks of him, one who preferred to commune with nature over a bath. Obi-Wan was disappointed with himself.</p><p> </p><p>“See, the thing about organic landscaping and native gardening is that you really just sort of let yourself <em> feel </em> the earth around you, and then build in <em> complement </em> to it, you know?” he’d said, as Obi-Wan nodded, open-mouthed and handed over the half-sweet-dirty-matcha-coffee-misto with coconut milk. “Thanks for the coffee, man.”</p><p> </p><p>Anakin sidled over, drying his hands on the grinds towel to watch in fascination as Qui-Gon swayed over to the condiment stand, added another three packets of Splenda, and poured in a generous dusting of cinnamon.</p><p> </p><p>“Keeping your mouth open in admiration, or cause you’re trying to avoid inhaling that <em> stench </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not a stench,” retorted Obi-Wan, hotly. “It’s an aroma. It’s different.”</p><p> </p><p>Anakin’s face distorted in scepticism so profound it looked painful. “Sure,” he said.</p><p> </p><p>And that was that.</p><p> </p><p>Except that Qui-Gon Jinn kept coming back.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“No, no, no,” he heard Anakin laughing over the sound of the espresso grinder. “I hate plants. I hate the earth. Down with roses, up with robots!”</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. <em> The drama. </em> But Anakin continued.</p><p> </p><p>“Actually, if you wanna talk plants and dirt, the person who really <em> loves </em> that stuff is my boy, Obi-Wan!”</p><p> </p><p>His head snapped up, aghast with dread at the possibility of Anakin falling into another wild conversation with a customer, and dragging Obi-Wan down with him. If there was one thing Obi-Wan absolutely loathed about customer service, it was small-talk. He made a point to keep his answers short. He made a point not to know anyone’s name, but to know their drinks. He had a strategy: if he anticipated their order, then he could make them their drink, and run them through till faster than they could ask him about the weather. It was perfect. It was foolproof. They felt seen, recognised, and remembered, and he maximised his time without anyone staring at him from across the bar, waiting as he made their drink...watching….wanting. </p><p> </p><p>But now, Anakin - who used every interaction as an opportunity to hone his dramatic acting skills, spinning outrageous tales about impossible weekend adventures, and exotic travels which never happened - was pulling <em> him </em> into his idiotic plots.</p><p> </p><p>He waved the expired portafilter at him, frantically trying to catch his eye and call the whole thing off, but in the end he was left exposed as Anakin and his audience both turned to him, and the espresso brick launched itself from the filter basket halfway across the cafe to hit the curious face of Qui-Gon Jinn.</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan froze. Time froze. He was half-convinced that heaven and hellfire froze, but then Anakin smirked, and reached across the counter to brush the old grinds from Qui-Gon’s collar.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry about that,” he said. “He just thinks trees are so sexy he loses all control whenever they’re mentioned. Obi-Wan? Do you remember Qui-Gon’s drink?”</p><p> </p><p>But Obi-Wan was too busy visualising every fire exit in the building, and calculating the best odds of evacuation.</p><p> </p><p>Then Qui-Gon smiled.</p><p> </p><p>At him.</p><p> </p><p>He ducked his head, the filter still clutched like a sword in his hand, and hid his own wild eyes behind the safe bulkhead of the espresso machine. After a solid ten-count with no further attention being called to him, he deduced it safe to emerge, turning away to grind and tamp another shot. </p><p> </p><p>Qui-Gon was waiting for him when he turned back.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” he said. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your friend - what’s his name?”</p><p> </p><p>“Anakin.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, Anakin, he mentioned you like plants,” Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan noticed he had dirt under his nails, and a scrape on his shoulder, and blue, blue eyes. With such incredible revelations to be made, Obi-Wan was thoroughly distracted, and could only offer a brief nod in reply.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s pretty far out, man,” Qui-Gon said, bobbing his head and grinning in approval. </p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan swallowed and regained some semblance of dignity.</p><p> </p><p>“I guess so,” he replied. “Not as far out as your drink. Does it even taste...good?”</p><p> </p><p>Qui-Gon laughed, and Obi-Wan admired how it made the apple of his throat leap, and the loose tendrils of his hair dance, raised up in the winds of his amusement. It was infectious, and he risked his own crooked smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, dude,” Qui-Gon said. “If it ain’t broke, right? And like, I love coffee, and I love matcha so I figure like, together, it’s just gotta be a good combo, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose so,” Obi-Wan said. “On the other hand, I figured that maybe you had some deep-seated self-hatred, and this was your punishment.” </p><p> </p><p>“<em>LOL </em>,” said Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan didn’t even flinch. “You’re funny, man. What’s your name?”</p><p> </p><p>“Obi-Wan,” said Obi-Wan.</p><p> </p><p>“Sick,” said Qui-Gon, and off he went to add his Splenda and cinnamon.</p><p> </p><p>Anakin, like Obi-Wan’s demonic conscience, appeared at his side, filling up the bean hopper.</p><p> </p><p>“Did he just say ‘lol’,” he asked. “Without irony?”</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan just shrugged, and focused intently on tamping another espresso. “I made him laugh,” he said.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Then, Qui-Gon Jinn was coming in every day, and every day Anakin made it his mission to praise every virtue Obi-Wan ever even considered possessing, but most of which he did not.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s like, so smart, too,” said Anakin, proudly.  “He graduated with high honors, and, I dunno, reads so many books.”</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan smiled, and waved as Qui-Gon made his way over.</p><p> </p><p>“So, you like to read, you like to garden, you can tie a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue, and you used to be an Olympic level figure-skater but chose to leave the sport in order to travel the world?”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, but that last bit isn’t true,” he said, throwing one hand forward across the counter between him and Qui-Gon, as if this sole gesture could stop Anakin’s mad ravings.</p><p> </p><p>Qui-Gon smiled, like he always did, his eyes sparkling with some deeper mirth, and Obi-Wan realised that maybe he was more aware than he let on. It flustered him, and he blushed as Qui-Gon leaned in.</p><p> </p><p>“I kinda guessed that much,” he said. “You haven’t got the shoulders for it. High five!”</p><p> </p><p>And with his dirty, grass-stained hand, he pressed his palm gently to Obi-Wan’s. </p><p> </p><p>In a daze, without looking, and without pulling his hand away, Obi-Wan topped the disgusting matcha brew with a lid, and slid it across the counter.</p><p> </p><p>“Your coffee,” he said, the consonants catching a little in his throat.</p><p> </p><p>“Yo, thanks, man!” said Qui-Gon, and smiling brightly, he sauntered off.</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan stepped aside as Anakin made his way past, carrying an order of pastries to the backroom.</p><p> </p><p>“I hope you wash your hands before you get back to work,” he shouted.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan was on till when Qui-Gon came in next.</p><p> </p><p>The landscaper looked particularly ruffled, and particularly appealing with his shirt torn, and brambles in his hair. Obi-Wan compensated for his annoyingly piqued lust with the stiff formality of language.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, mister Jinn - your usual, I presume?”</p><p> </p><p>It was not a flawless cover.</p><p> </p><p>But Qui-Gon didn’t seem to notice.</p><p> </p><p>“You know it,” he said, handing over cash, and a generous tip. “Thanks, Anakin.”</p><p> </p><p>The till drawer slammed shut, with Obi-Wan’s fingers still in it.</p><p> </p><p>“Ow! Motherfu-...dger,” he cursed. Qui-Gon didn’t seem to notice that, either, as he stood patiently in front of Anakin at the espresso bar, joyfully anticipating his monstrosity of a drink.</p><p> </p><p>Anakin, however, looked absolutely outraged. The pitcher of milk hit the countertop with a hollow thunk, foam spraying everywhere, the steaming wand left to billow as he stared at Obi-Wan in open-mouthed indignation.</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?” he screeched.</p><p> </p><p>Qui-Gon jutted his chin out in a typically unaffected greeting.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, hey man, what’s up?”</p><p> </p><p>“Can you -”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Anakin, </em>I swear to God!” said Obi-Wan. “Just make the freaking drink.”</p><p> </p><p>Miraculously, his friend suspended his tirade and returned to his task, but he made sure to punctuate every action with vigorous percussion so that Obi-Wan - and presumably everyone else - could <em> hear </em> his displeasure ring out as metal hit wood, and paper, and steam.</p><p> </p><p>He thrust the drink across the divide, and glared even as Qui-Gon tipped his head, and toasted the cup in appreciation.</p><p> </p><p>“Cheers, man,” he said, and walked away.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m gonna punch him in the face,” said Anakin.</p><p> </p><p>“No, you’re not.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m gonna murder him,” Anakin vowed.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, I think that’s a little much,” said Obi-Wan.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Anakin said. “It’s not. He deserves it. I mean, look at his shirt. He’s asking for it.”</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan snorted, massaging his abused fingers, and running them under the tap hoping that the cold water might numb the sting.</p><p> </p><p>“You know that kind of thinking is outdated, and horrifically sexist?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I didn’t put any espresso in his stupid drink, in any case.”</p><p> </p><p>With that declaration of retaliation proclaimed, Anakin moved to rinse the pitchers and shot glasses with the smug superiority of a victor.</p><p> </p><p>“Anakin!” Obi-Wan scolded. “He <em> paid </em> for that!”</p><p> </p><p>“And yet I’m the one who has to suffer for minimum wage.”</p><p> </p><p>“O-ho!” cried Obi-Wan. “No, you’re not even the victim here. <em> I’m </em> the one who makes his stupid drink every day, <em> I’m </em> the one he just called <em> Anakin </em> . He thinks I’m <em> you! </em> And you’re <em> me </em> ! So, actually, <em> I’m </em> the one who’s gonna get blamed because you were too petty to make his drink as ordered.”</p><p> </p><p>Anakin just stared at him, wholly unrepentant, and Obi-Wan knew that he would break first, but had every intention of maintaining their ocular battle of wills until he passed out, if he had to. He would make him work for his victory, before he gave in, and went back to the till, proceeding to feel guilty all day, and obsess about the mess entirely not of his making.</p><p> </p><p>But instead, they were interrupted rather early in their contest.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, sorry guys.” It was Qui-Gon. “I was just thinking, like, I don’t know but I think maybe the espresso got missed? I don’t mean to be a pain.”</p><p> </p><p>Anakin smirked, and shrugged. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, and broke off, turning to Qui-Gon with his sweetest, and most understanding customer smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” he said. “Not a pain at all. I’ll remake that for you.”</p><p> </p><p>He grabbed Qui-Gon’s cup, and elbowed Anakin out of the way.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, sick,” said Qui-Gon. “Thanks, Obi-Wan.”</p><p> </p><p>Anakin snorted. Obi-Wan rationalised.</p><p> </p><p><em> It’s nothing </em> , he thought. <em> It means nothing. It’s probably just because you’re back on bar. </em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>But the next time Qui-Gon Jinn came in, it was a Saturday, and he was carrying a little plant.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” he said, sidling up to Obi-Wan at the till. “I think maybe I accidentally hurt your feelings the other day. I called you ‘Anakin’?”</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan dismissed this. “Oh, no,” he said. “Not at all. Happens all the time.”</p><p> </p><p>Qui-Gon wasn’t fully convinced, and he lifted his shoulders in a low shrug of disagreement. “Well, in any case, I wanted to apologise. I brought you a little present.”</p><p> </p><p>The plant, a chubby little cutting from some succulent or other, was slid across the span of concrete between them.</p><p> </p><p>“For me?” asked Obi-Wan.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” said Qui-Gon. “Whether you like plants or not, whether you’re an A-student, a beekeeper, or an Olympic medalist, or not, anyone’s got a good chance at keeping a succulent alive. So I figured it was a safe bet.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have to bet on my forgiveness,” said Obi-Wan.</p><p> </p><p>“Nah,” agreed Qui-Gon, “But I figured if you said yes to my succulent, you might say yes when I asked you out.”</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan was too stunned to say anything, so Anakin, helpful as he was, filled in the blank for him.</p><p> </p><p>“He says <em> yes!” </em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p>
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